Kiss of Amnesia
by VisAVis2
Summary: Continues MOS movie. Lois knows Clark is Kal-El. Until he gives her a very special kiss... with disastrous consequences! Rated T for kissing and fighting. Batman, Robin, Wonder Woman, and more. No coarse language or explicit bedroom scenes. Chapters 1-4 beta read by searchingforthatbluebox. All mistakes are my own.
1. The Kiss

Chapter One - The Kiss

[Author's Note: See "Interludes" by Eowynn77 for a plausible background on where Clark was before he joined the Daily Planet. For canon-related concerns, see my profile.]

_Perry White, editor-in-chief of the Daily Planet newspaper, has just introduced Clark Kent, the Daily Planet's mild-mannered new hire, to Lois Lane and some other reporters in the bullpen. Lois and Clark pretend to have just met._

As soon as she can do so without being observed, Lois pulls Clark into a supply closet and closes the door. After an enthusiastic hug, she draws back and looks up into his eyes.

"I was worried. Where have you been? Are you ok? "Mindful of their surroundings, she is whispering.

"The Arctic, with Jor-El." He, too, keeps his voice soft.

"Your father? But Zod deleted him."

"There was a backup copy installed in the scout ship, the Fortress of Solitude. The ship's hard drive also contains all the wisdom and knowledge of Krypton. There's a lot to learn. Jor-El has been training me, making up for lost time."

"The space ship? Didn't you destroy it?"

"I repaired it. I hid it deep in an ice cave, safe from surveillance satellites, completely isolated. They'll never find it this time."

"You must get awfully lonely up there."

He is silent for a moment, then nods. He hadn't admitted it even to himself. But yes, he had missed real human companionship. He had missed Lois.

* * * * * In the Bullpen * * * * *

Clark's new desk is very close to hers. As he's about to sit down, a dark-haired young woman comes up to Lois and smiles hesitantly towards Clark.

"Lois, introduce me?"

"Oh sure! Clark Kent, this is Jenny Jurwich. She's an intern. I'm sure you'll get on famously."

Jenny tells Clark, "Whatever you need, call me."

She looks back and forth between the two for a moment, then ventures, "You know she's taken, right?" At the awkward silence, she blurts out, "I saw her kiss that alien." She blushes and turns to go. "Ok, then. Nice meeting you."

"Nice meeting you too, Jenny." Clark and Lois share a look. This time they're not grinning.

* * * * * At the Fortress of Solitude * * * * *

Back at the Fortress, Clark calls out, "Jor-El!"

A hologram of a man appears before him whose graying hair and dark flowing garment - half armor, half gown - and purple cape indicate that he is middle aged and of an otherworldly origin. He addresses Clark by his Kryptonian name. "Kal-El, my son."

"Lois Lane could be targeted because of her association with an alien. And the way she looks at me at the Daily Planet... I don't blame her, but people could make the connection."

The hologram nods sagely. "I have just what you need." Images appear around them as he speaks, illustrating his words. "When Kryptonians first started colonizing other worlds, they realized the necessity of protecting their Kryptonian identity. So a team of our scientists developed a special formula that erases memory in only a particular part of the brain. It doesn't work on Kryptonians. It enters the system through lip membranes. It can be applied with a kiss, or via a single-use applicator. It works instantly; the moment you use it on Lois, she will entirely forget that you are Kal-El."

"It won't have any other ill effect on her?"

"None whatsoever. Kryptonians have used this formula for centuries. Come; I will show you where it is stored."

In the ship's supply room, Jor-El indicates a box full of small lip balm applicators. They look just like a product humans commonly use for chapped lips.

Clark takes one. On second thought, he takes a few. Thinking again, he takes the whole box, applies some balm generously to his own lips, then departs for Lois's balcony for some mouth-to-mouth administration.

* * * * * *At Lois's Balcony * * * * *

Lois flings open the sliding glass door, rushing out onto her balcony and into Kal-El's arms.

He just stands there, holding her in silence. After a few moments, she looks up at him. His troubled eyes mirror her own. "Is something wrong?"

"I... Lois, being close to you makes you a target. Anyone looking for me will go after you. And who knows what could happen to you if they figure out that you know my identity. You could be interrogated, or worse."

"You know I don't care this," she snaps her fingers for emphasis, "about danger."

"Maybe not, but I do. I cannot bear the thought of anything happening to you. I need to erase my identity from your memory."

"You can do that?"

"Just one kiss. We'll still be there for each other, but you'll know me only as Clark Kent, not Kal-El."

Lois is resistant at first, but her faith in him wins out in the end. They share one last passionate KISS…

And off he flies to deliver free samples of lip balm to everyone who might be able to connect Kal-El, super-powered alien from Krypton, to Clark Kent. If Lois ever goes on the hunt for his identity again, she'll get a run for her money.

Unfortunately, the kiss Lois received has had an unforeseen consequence.


	2. Aftermath - Truth or Consequences

Chapter Two – Aftermath - Truth or Consequences

_Author's Note: Some changes were made in the final paragraphs of this chapter and parts of chapter 5 thanks to suggestions from duchess66. I highly recommend her "Restoration" story if you like AU Smallville Clois. :)_

**** Part I - Truth ****  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Clark has brought in a load of firewood and is arranging some of it in the fireplace in the Kent living room. Martha Kent, his mother, is seated nearby, slowly rocking back and forth as she jots something down in her notebook, humming softly to herself.

"What's that?" Clark gives his wood "teepee" one last appraisal before igniting it with his laser vision. He closes his eyes for a moment and gives his head a little shake to clear the residual sting, then draws together the enclosing metal mesh and sits back on his heels.

"Things you'll need in case you decide to get your own place in Metropolis."

"I'll be fine."

"You've been traveling light. You'll need furniture, linens, dishes, cleaning supplies, appliances,..." her voice trails off.

Clark blushes and begins to protest. "Don't go spending all your money on me. I'm grown now. I have a job. I can take care of all that. I can take care of you, too."

"And then there's that lovely young thing, Lois Lane..." She glances at him sidelong. He's smitten, all right. Ma Kent smiles quietly. "You'll need a few nice things for entertaining."

"Mom, I... I kissed her today."

She chuckles. "Clark, you kissed her before, remember?"

"Yes, but not like this. I realized she's exactly what I've always needed, in so many ways."

"Yes?" Martha prompts. The "Hallelujah" chorus from Handel's "Messiah" begins welling up in her head, together with visions of all those grandchildren she'd pretty much given up on ever having.

"But I think I just blew it."

The music stops. Ma Kent sets aside her notebook and pen and leans forward. "What happened?"

Clark looks down, addressing the floor. "I used a Kryptonian lip balm to erase her memory of my secret identity. I didn't want her association with Kal-El to put her in danger."

"You erased her memory?"

"Just that part."

"But everyone knows of her association with the superpowered alien. You can't erase that, too, can you?"

He looks up, struggling to explain what suddenly doesn't make as much sense as it did this afternoon. "No, but if I distance myself from her as Kal-El, and am only with her as Clark Kent, eventually she will be out of the spotlight. She will be safe."

"Son, I really don't think you needed to erase her memory to make that happen. I wish... " She sighs. So much for those grandkids. It's too bad he hadn't come to her first. Maybe she could have dissuaded him. "Ah, well. What's done is done. We can only try to make the best of it."

Clark regards his mother silently for a moment. She has resumed her writing and rocking. He gets to his feet and heads to his old room. "Or I could just commute from here," he says, half to himself.

*****Later that Night*****

Later, in his bed, Clark is restless. That kiss has really done a number on his heart. Maybe a short peck would have been enough, but no. He had to go on and on like there was no tomorrow, and now he finds himself consumed with thoughts of her. Her caring, upturned face. Her steady, trusting gaze. Her hopeful smile. The gentle, reassuring touch of her hand. The comfort of her embrace. Her soft, fragrant hair. The warm pressure of her lips, first tentative, then firm and vibrant.

Ah, that kiss.

Their first time, after their narrow escape from being pulled into the Phantom Zone, had indeed been different. That kiss had said, "We made it." It said, "I understand what you went through." It said, "I appreciate you." Perhaps it even said, "I need you."

But this second time it said much more. It said, "We are Kal-El and Lois Lane, Fierce and Fearless. Nothing can stop us now."

Lois. She was not just compassionate, understanding, trusting, comforting, and reassuring. She was also strong. She was also brave. She was also resolute. She upheld him when he faltered, she ...

He sat up suddenly. Maybe that kiss had been a terrible mistake.

But no. It was for her safety, right? It was to protect her. Partnering with an alien meant throwing herself into dangerous situations. Hadn't she been forced to come face to face with the most powerful military leaders of both Earth and Krypton because of him?

At least now they can be free to enjoy a happy, safe, peaceful relationship at the Daily Planet. He'll see her every day. It will be the beginning of a wonderful new chapter in his life. Things are finally looking up. Tomorrow will be a brand new day. He can't wait.

"Here I come, Lois," he sings out softly as he drifts off into slumber.

**** Part II - Consequences ****  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A blinking cursor appears to glide steadily across the bottom line of the blank computer screen, left to right, left to right. Lois Lane is gazing up in the general direction of the nearest window, one finger resting a little too heavily on the space bar.

In comes Clark Kent, balancing two cups of coffee and an armload of files. Arriving at his desk, he extends one foot and pulls out the chair. He smiles in Lois's direction, but it goes entirely unnoticed. As he attempts to adjust his glasses with one of the coffee cups, a file escapes his grip; papers scatter. He stoops to gather them, but others slip out to join the first. The ensuing domino-effect chaos successfully shatters her reverie. She leaps into action.

"Kent, isn't it? Here, let me help. Better yet, move. Let me get it." Under her breath she adds, "What a dope. At least he didn't spill too much coffee all over this stuff."

Heavens to Murgatroyd, what has he done? Clark is stunned. She has forgotten him, totally and completely! For a moment he can't think straight, as though lightning has struck from above and shattered his heart into a million pieces. How can this be possible?

"You all right, Clark?" Lois asks.

He stands still, barely even blinking. He wants to grab her by the shoulders, look into her eyes and demand, "You don't remember me? Nothing ... nothing at all?" But he feels so heavy, he can't move, can't even breathe.

Just then Perry White, the editor-in-chief, steps into the bullpen accompanied by two men in dark suits. "Lane, these gentlemen from the FBI want a word with you."

She rises and shoves the files into Clark's unresponsive arms. As he continues to stand frozen, staring in disbelief, she sets her chin, turns on her heel, and is gone.


	3. New Friends: Bruce and Diana

Chapter 3 - New Friends - Bruce and Diana

_Author's Note: I am truly grateful for the work that my first beta reader, searchingforthatbluebox, put into improvements on this story. Thanks to my second beta reader, duchess66, as well, for her very helpful suggestions. All mistakes that remain are my own._

******Part 1 - Bruce******

Beneath her soft-spoken exterior, Lois can be a real spitfire. She defies the agents to produce ID, which they do.

Lois takes her time studying the cards, making the agents squirm. The taller one, with dark hair, graying a little at the temples, is Agent Frank Brown. The shorter one with a loud tie is identified as Agent Lawrence Philmore.

Agent Brown can't take it any longer. He snatches the cards from her hand. "Now come along," he growls.

"Unless you have probable cause to arrest me, we talk at the Planet or not at all."

"Very well, Miss Lane.." Agent Philmore starts, trying a more polite approach.

"I know my rights; overstep them, and I'll have your heads on a platter."

Perry leads them into his office.

Agent Brown gets right to the point. "Tell us where to find Kal-El."

Lois says, "You are wasting your time. A good reporter never reveals her source, and I have a Pulitzer."

Agent Philmore tries again. "In this particular case, your source may pose a threat to the security of our nation and of the entire world. He is an incredibly powerful alien, potentially very dangerous. Help us find him."

"I have absolutely no idea how to do that."

"Perhaps not. But we have reason to believe that you will see him again soon. When you do, attach this to his person. It's a very small GPS tracking device. Please, Miss Lane. You could save millions of lives."

She doesn't promise, but places the device in her pocket and rises to her feet. This interview is over.

Perry calls after her, "Oh, and Lane, I want you to work with Kent on that subway story."

Kent. Ugh. She rolls her eyes.

* * * * * Back in the Bullpen * * * * *

The files that Clark piled up on his desk this morning contain background information on all previous subway accidents in Metropolis dating back five years, everything anyone might want to know.

The causes determined by previous investigations are also listed; operator error, equipment/brake malfunction, traffic control malfunction or planning error, people or debris on the tracks, and so on. It's enough to make a person's head spin.

_He may be all thumbs, but at least I don't have to wade through all these files solo,_ Lois admits begrudgingly to herself. _And he's not too hard on the eyes._

Steve Lombard, one of the reporters Clark met yesterday, appears with an open box of assorted doughnuts. "Has everyone had breakfast? It's the _most_ important meal of the day." He swings one fist into the air enthusiastically to emphasize the word "most."

Without interrupting her work, Lois raises one hand to wave him away.

He turns to Clark. "Hey, Clarkie, want a doughnut?"

Clark winces inwardly at the nickname, but says nothing. He surveys the choices. "What do you recommend? Wouldn't want to miss the _most_" - as he imitates Steve's gesture, he knocks a few file folders off of his desk. He stoops to retrieve them as he sheepishly intones, "...important meal of the day."

"I'd say the maple is pretty good." Steve answers, tossing a few more folders from Clark's desk to the floor as he speaks.

Ignoring Steve's guffaws, Clark gathers up all the folders and places them neatly back on his desk. "Okay, thanks Steve." He takes a doughnut.

"You're all right, Clarkie!" Steve declares, still laughing as he gives Clark a friendly slap on the back, then walks away.

Lois and Clark manage to identify five subway accidents without clear-cut causes. Preliminary finger-pointing seems to indicate sub-standard work done by Wayne Construction, a subsidiary of Wayne Industries.

"I'll go take a look," says Lois. "Jenny, come with me."

* * * * * At the Subway Station * * * * *

At the scene of the most recent collision, as Jenny walks around taking photos, Lois approaches a group of businessmen in crisp, dark suits. The man at the center of the group motions for a pause in the conversation. He breaks from the others and introduces himself to Lois as Bruce Wayne.

"The billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne?" Lois pulls out her notebook and starts writing. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?"

He smiles wryly. "I had to see for myself what happened. Accidents like this reflect poorly on my company."

"Now _that's_ an understatement," Lois blurts out.

The billionaire doesn't skip a beat. "My employees are conscientious, good workers, highly qualified. We have safeguards in place to ensure that we never cut corners; we never resort to cheap materials or shoddy workmanship. We extend our condolences to everyone affected by this unfortunate incident. Wayne Industries is establishing a fund to assist those who sustained injuries or lost loved ones."

"We'll get to the bottom of this," Lois assures him, placing her pen back in its usual resting place behind her ear. He's even more impressive in person than he was on television. He's well mannered, impeccably groomed, very good looking, and even personable. She hands him her card. "Call me if you have any leads. It was good to finally meet you in person. I hope we'll meet again sometime."

He returns the favor; his card identifies him as CEO of Wayne Industries. "Likewise." He inclines his head slightly and turns to rejoin his associates.

******Part 2 - Diana******

* * * * * The Poker Run * * * * *

Saturday morning, there's a poker run to raise funds for local families bereaved by the recent Kryptonian smash fest. Lois dons her leathers and helmet, and revs her trusty bike. She pauses to enjoy the sound; then, with one last loud "vroom," she's off to the clubhouse of the Metropolis Motorcycle Club.

She's welcomed into the clubhouse by an "M and M;" pretty much everyone here treats Lois with respect because of her track record. Fearlessly exposing corruption, she's sympathetic to the downtrodden, providing them a fair opportunity to tell their story, and going to great lengths to protect her sources.

Inside, other than a giant poster of a thermometer on the far wall showing the progress of the fundraising efforts so far, the clubhouse looks pretty much the same as always. The dartboard on the left wall is getting some action; up at the podium, there's a small group gathered around the "kitty" telling jokes; every so often someone has to throw in the 25-cent penalty for telling a groaner. Near the trophy case to the right of the podium, a dented helmet has been hung from the ceiling by the grateful biker whose life it saved. Below this, some volunteers are seated at a folding table which has been set up for registration in today's event.

Bikers sporting colors from clubs all over the state are showing their support; each person checking in with the volunteers is handed a playing card and a chilled water bottle before departing for the next checkpoint. Some leave right away, but some stick around to reconnect with old friends and swap stories. As folks come through, Lois asks if they can shed any light on the recent subway accidents.

One young fellow with a rather sunburned neck says that he works for Wayne Construction. He thinks they're being set up. He pleads with Lois to help him prove their innocence, maybe enlisting the alien if possible.

_Why does everyone think I can find Kal-El?_ she wonders. _And why are so many people looking for him?_

A tall, dark-haired lady biker enters just before lunch. Her brightly-colored clothing is way too scant for safe biking. Someone at a far corner table gives a loud wolf whistle. One of his companions yells, "That'll be a quarter!" When he tries to protest, a voice across the room counters, "Fifty cents!" Chagrined, the offending party pushes himself up from the table and trudges on over to the kitty. There is scattered laughter.

As though oblivious to all of this, the lady biker heads directly to the folding table. She signs in as Diana Prince, of the Amazons. While she is re-hydrating, Lois introduces herself.

"Hi! Lois Lane, Daily Planet. I wonder if you've heard anything about the recent spate of subway accidents."

"Hello, Lois. I'm Diana Prince. I'm concerned about the accidents as well. However, first I would very much appreciate your assistance in another matter of greater urgency. Come with me, if you will."

Lois is curious, but she's also no one's fool; she surreptitiously activates the GPS tracking device in her pocket on the way out.

"It's in Washington, DC. Allow me." Diana loads Lois's bike into the back of a two-seater stealth plane which Lois hadn't noticed before in the parking lot, helps Lois aboard, and off they go.

* * * * * At the Amazons Motorcycle Club Clubhouse * * * * *

At the clubhouse, Diana is a gracious hostess. She offers Lois some lunch, and the two women eat together.

"I want to meet the alien called Kal-El." Diana tells her.

"I really have no idea how to find him, or whether I'll ever see him again," Lois says. "Maybe you can tell me a little about yourself. How long have the Amazons been around?"

"All in due time. First, tell me everything you know about the alien."

* * * * * At the Fortress of Solitude * * * * *

Meanwhile, Clark has gone to see Jor-El. He's troubled by the change in Lois.

"I did as you suggested, I used the lip balm. It worked. She doesn't remember my Kryptonian identity. In a sense that's good, right? Because she's safe now. And when the FBI came to question her today, she was able to tell them honestly that she has no idea who I am or how to find me. But she has changed entirely. She doesn't even like me. I can't bear it. Is there any way to reverse what I've done?"

"I know of none. But you are correct, it is good that Lois cannot lead anyone to you now, considering that the FBI wasted no time in contacting her. Your human emotion is your weakness, my son. Let me train you in the Kryptonian ways. Come to me every morning, or as often as you can. I can help you control your emotions, and develop your inborn Kryptonian strengths, such as resolve, detachment, and focus. You will need these if you are to fulfill your destiny."

"I'm also concerned for Doctor Emil Hamilton and Colonel Nathan Hardy. I need to get them out of the Phantom Zone."

"There may be a way. But to succeed, you must also hone your combat skills. You have had no training and almost no experience. I'm a scientist, not a warrior, but perhaps I could give you some specific critique based on footage from your recent battle with Zod, if you can obtain it."

Clark thinks about how this can be accomplished. He remembers seeing a news helicopter; probably some private citizens took some video with their cell phones or digital cameras, and some of the fight may have been captured by convenience store security cameras and the like. If anyone can get their hands on such footage, it's Lois.

He searches fruitlessly for her all over Metropolis for several hours. By nightfall he's getting really worried. Where can she be?

* * * * * Back at the Clubhouse * * * * *

Suddenly, learning of the Kryptonian's super hearing, Diana advises Lois to call out loudly for him.

In less than a minute, Kal-El stands in the doorway, straight and tall. "I mean you no harm." He announces. "I have come for Lois Lane."

"Fear not, Kal-El," Diana reassures him. "Lois is safe. Kindly have a seat."

He goes directly to Lois. "I heard you calling." He's confused. If she's perfectly safe, why did she call?

"I'm fine. My new friend wanted to meet you."

"That's it? You're really okay?"

She nods.

He looks around quickly to confirm that this is so. Nothing seems amiss. At any rate, it's good that he has found her. He takes a breath to steady himself. If she has forgotten her feelings for Clark, perhaps she still cares for Kal-El? He plunges ahead with his request. "Lois, I need footage of my recent battle with Zod. Do you think you could help me?"

Diana speaks up. "A satellite belonging to a friend of mine recorded the whole thing. Please wait while I download a copy for you."

She leaves the room and returns in just a few minutes holding up a flash drive. "Stay for dinner, Kal-El; I'll introduce you to my friend."

Lois asks to see the drive. She unsheathes it for a better look. "The latest and greatest," she approves, but secretly she affixes the GPS transmitter to the inside of the sheath before placing the flash drive back inside and handing it to Kal-El.


	4. Superheroes Get Lonely Too

_[A/N - This week I'd like to recommend the first five chapters of "Changed for Good" by The Patriette. It's an excellent account of the events beginning from the defeat of Zod and ending with Clark's appearance at the Daily Planet. Enjoy!  
_

_Also, I went back to the previous chapter and eliminated Jimmy and added Jenny Jurwich and Steve Lombard plus a few more details here and there. Changed Superman to Kal-El. No major plot changes.]_

Thanks to his super hearing, Clark has known about the GPS tracking device all along and has been keeping an eye on it. He notices right away as soon as it is missing from Lois's pocket.

As soon as Diana has left to take Lois and her bike back to Metropolis, Clark quickly locates the device and crushes it between his thumb and forefinger, then heat-zaps it just to be sure. He carries it out over the ocean and releases it, hovering to watch as the tiny sparkle of silver drops down, down, down, finally hitting the water with a rather unsatisfying "sploosh." The threat of being tracked has been completely eliminated, but the sting of betrayal remains. He's having a hard time believing that Lois would do such a thing. Perhaps he was right long ago when he decided that although humans are fragile and need his protection, they cannot be entrusted with his heart; they always turn against him in the end.

Clark makes a beeline for the Arctic. He flies into a glacier, slamming it hard. As he makes impact, he yells out loud, "HA!" as he watches the face of it break to pieces and fall all around him. He slams into it again, thrusting his shoulder deep into the solid ice. The glacier gives way, and he finds himself on the other side. The top of the glacier is wobbling. "ARRRR!" he roars, rising and slamming into it head-first. He knocks it to the ground where it splinters into countless fragments across the whiteness covering the permafrost. He is as a driven man. _That glacier must go!_ He rises up again and again, slamming into it until there is nothing left to indicate that it ever existed.

Finally spent, he slumps down onto the ice. He is truly alone. Just when he thought there was hope, that there was someone for him, someone who truly cared about him, he had to go and ruin everything. He misses her trust, her selfless devotion, her reassurance and support. Mostly, though, he just misses her. Before she came along, he was doing just fine on his own. Sure, he was lonely, but it didn't ache this badly. He was getting by. He had resigned himself to his lot. But now...

He could go to the Fortress, but confiding in a hologram suddenly seems too pathetic.

****Flashback*****

_It's the first day of the new school year. Young Clark is about to begin his homework. Martha Kent calls from the front door. "Clark, your friend Hans is here. He wants to know if you can come out and play."_

_Clark grabs his jacket and runs for the door. "Hi, Hans!" _

_When Hans and his family had first come to Smallville that summer, Clark had helped him practice English, and since then they had spent many pleasant hours at the Kent farm. _

_"Let's go see the horses," Hans suggests. _

_As they walk, Clark enthuses about the new colt that was born the previous night. "My folks are letting me keep him. I haven't decided on a name yet." _

_Suddenly, several boys jump out and form a circle around Clark, giving Hans a "high five" as they pass him. _

_"What you gonna do, huh?" The biggest boy of the bunch runs up and shoves Clark's shoulder, then rejoins the others._

_The next boy who steps in decides to try punching, first lightly and then harder. Clark has to will himself to subtly yield a little so the boy's hand is not broken. "Hit me back. Come on, hit me."_

_A few others try, each more daring than the last. One of them pushes Hans into the circle. "Go ahead, kick him. Nothing will happen." Hans timidly swings his foot in Clark's direction. The other boys keep urging him. "Harder!" Hans kicks harder, then turns and runs back to join the others._

_Clark allows himself to be thrown to the ground where he remains until the boys finally stop kicking and insulting him. _

_"Such a loser," one of them scoffs, turning to go.  
_

_Clark waits until all of his tormenters are gone, then he straightens up and wipes himself off. His shirt is filthy and torn. He heaves a sigh. His parents can ill afford another shirt, but something else hurts even more._

*****Dinner with Friends*****

Clark shakes away the daydream. Suddenly, he remembers Diana's invitation. He could really use a friend right now. He speeds back to Washington DC, still in his Kryptonian garb.

At the clubhouse, Diana greets him with a warm smile. She's changed into a more conservative turtleneck and trousers; her long, wavy black tresses have been pulled back into an austere pony tail. Behind her glasses, she is still tall, lovely, and graceful, almost regal. "Come in."

She leads Clark through to a sizable, formally set dining table. Leaning casually against a nearby wall is none other than the billionaire Bruce Wayne. "He's the friend who owns the satellite I mentioned."

Clark shakes his hand. "Good to meet you, sir. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"We heard of the recent alien attacks on Metropolis and Smallville. We wish to extend our gratitude for saving our planet, but we also want to ascertain that you yourself are not a danger to humanity."

"I assure you, Mr. Wayne, I have only earth's best interests at heart."

Diana approaches and faces him. Up close, it is difficult not to notice how beautiful she is. "I would like to ask a few questions." She is proffering one end of the shiny cord that has been hanging at her side. "This Lasso causes people to tell the complete truth. Do you trust me?"

Clark isn't sure why, but he's willing to take the chance. He reaches out and takes hold of the cord. "I do. I trust you. And … you are amazing."

As she tightens the Lasso around him, he finds himself gazing steadily into her eyes. He is realizing just how achingly lonely he has been, misunderstood, mistrusted and mistreated again and again. But Diana can be trusted completely. He will gladly do anything for her.

Diana gets right to the point. "Who are you, and what are your intentions?"

"I am Kal-El, son of Jor-El of Krypton. I was adopted as a small child and raised on earth as a human. As for my intentions, I mean no harm. I hope to help those who are in danger, to inspire people to do their part to help others in need."

"Where can we find you, Kal-El?" She prompts.

"I live in Metropolis. My name is ..."

Diana places a hand over his lips, and pulls the Lasso away. "Enough," she says.

She removes her hand, but the sensation lingers. Clark takes a deep breath to steady himself. _Wow, she is really something._

"Do forgive the intrusion on your privacy, but I had to be certain who we were dealing with." Her apology is further confirmation of her inherent goodness.

She nods toward the food. "Please, have some dinner."

Taking her cue, Clark and Bruce seat themselves.

Clark serves himself some meatloaf, then sets the serving platter near Mr. Wayne. "Here you are, sir," he says, and reaches for the mashed potatoes and gravy.

"Call me Bruce," the gentleman responds, serving himself some as well. "How likely do you suppose another alien attack would be?"

"To tell the truth, for the past 33 years I never met anyone from any other planet; in fact, I only recently learned of my own origin. But my planet is gone, and as far as I know, I am the only remaining survivor." He looks over at their hostess. "Diana, this gravy is almost as good as my mom's."

"Yes. Well," Bruce seems to be addressing the corncob he's buttering. "I'm always looking for ways to put my resources to good use. I'll be retooling my satellites to watch for threats from above as well as below. How about you? Are you working on anything in particular?"

"I am, in fact. Two men who helped defend earth have been trapped in the Phantom Zone, a Kryptonian prison in space. I have to get them out of there."

"How can we help?"

Clark nods in Diana's direction in silent appreciation for the corn. "Bruce, the vortex that sent them there was created by my ship's phantom drive. The drive sustained damage in the recent battle, so it needs repair. I'm given to understand that there's a way to send me in and then bring the three of us back. It requires coding the drive to lock onto my vital signs, and reversing the phantom drive's polarity to change the direction of the vortex at my signal. So I also need a way to send a signal back here through the vortex. I could use someone able to ramp up quickly with alien technology to make all of that happen. Also, I hope to use the footage Diana gave me to help me improve my fighting skills so I can survive in the Zone."

"Fighting skills?" Diana interjects. "I am a warrior. The clubhouse has a large meeting room I can use for your training."

"You?" Clark is incredulous. She's not only intoxicating, but a warrior as well?

"Yes," Bruce says thoughtfully. "You could train him, but this location has been compromised. Lois Lane, the Daily Planet reporter who was here earlier, was concealing a GPS tracking device. Some men came around asking questions shortly before you arrived. We need to move to a more secure place."

"Move the Amazons Motorcycle Club?" Clark has not seen evidence of any motorcycles or anything related to biking anywhere around. It doesn't look like this clubhouse has been frequented by a large number of people, either. Not in a long time.

"The training facility. I need to revamp the surveillance satellites anyway, as I mentioned, to keep an eye out for future alien threats, present company excepted. It wouldn't be any trouble to add a room or two to one of them, and you'll be safe there from prying eyes."

For a moment, Clark can't think how to respond to such an incredibly off-the-wall suggestion. "I wouldn't have a problem getting up there, and I could even help you transport additional modules and attach them, but how would it be practical for you and Diana to get to and from a satellite? And how can such a large facility orbit the planet undetected?"

Bruce seems almost amused. "Leave that to us," he says. "Meanwhile, have you seen any suspicious activity around the subways lately?"

Clark laughs. "And here I thought we wouldn't have much to say to each other!" When no one else smiles, he continues. "I've heard of the recent accidents, yes, but I haven't seen anything yet to explain them. I hope this doesn't hurt your business too much."

As they rise to clear the table, Bruce is quickly back to his affable self. "The competition will probably have a heyday. But I've got my best men on it."

Just then, Bruce's cell phone rings. He excuses himself and takes the call in an adjoining room. "Yes, Alfred."

Clark isn't trying to eavesdrop, but the voice on the other end comes through loud and clear. "It's the bat signal. You're needed right away, sir."

"I'll be on my way."

Bruce reappears and hands Clark a business card. "Call me tonight," he urges. "We can get started on the Phantom Drive tomorrow."

He nods to their hostess. "Thank you for the excellent dinner. Do excuse the abrupt departure."

"No problem at all," Diana assures him graciously. "See you tomorrow."

As the door closes behind Bruce Wayne, Clark smiles to himself. _So that was Batman. _

He puts his plates in the dishwasher and turns reluctantly to go. "Thanks for the dinner," he says.

"My pleasure."

The tiny bat-shaped tracking device affixed to the lining of his cape goes undetected as he bids Diana farewell and takes to the skies.


	5. Dark (K)Night

Chapter 5 Dark (K)Night

_Author's Note: See how many nicknames for Batman and Robin you can find in this chapter. Bon chance!_

*******************Lois in Metropolis*****************

Bidding Diana _adieu_, Lois lingers not at all; she freshens up quickly and swings back astride her bike.

"Hope I haven't missed it," she mutters, casting an eye to the blackened sky as she roars to the fairgrounds. It's clear that the poker run is well over by now, the awards have been distributed, the festivities have ceased; daylight has long since dwindled, the chorus of farewells has faded away, and almost everyone has saddled up and dispersed. The police positioned at the perimeter "just in case" have also departed. Lois pulls up beside an old pickup, plants her jiffy stand into the dirt, and takes in the scene. In the area illumined by the truck's headlights, an elderly couple in M & M leathers pays her no mind, dousing the campfires, tossing the trash in the nearby dumpster, and loading up the last of the folding tables and chairs. Lois lifts her face shield and shouts over the low putter of her engine, "How'd it go?"

The old man pauses. He draws the back of one hand across his brow. Then, hand still raised to block the brightness, he squints up at her and hollers back, "Exceeded our goal, ma'am; doubled it, in fact."

"Fantastic news, thanks! I'm sure our readers will be glad to hear it!"

She lowers her face shield, kicks up the stand, and rumbles back down the road.

*****************Batman in Gotham City****************

The uninitiated observer might think it strange for a butler to present his employer, as he answers the door and welcomes him into his stately abode, with a pile of clean, freshly pressed and folded laundry, but when Alfred punctuates his bow and flourish with exactly that, billionaire Bruce Wayne doesn't bat an eye. He recognizes his superhero disguise and is acutely aware that this is no time, indeed, to stand on ceremony. As the man now in possession of the aforementioned articles of clothing dashes for the concealed door leading to his underground base of operations, Alfred informs him that there has been yet another tragic subway accident, this time in downtown Gotham City. Despite the butler's entirely proper and respectful articulation, the message is clear. There is no time to lose; the perpetrator must be apprehended before more citizens are hurt. In less time than it takes to say "Jackie Robinson," Bruce Wayne and his young ward, Dick Grayson, together with the long-suffering Alfred, are assembled in the bat cave, surrounded by a massive array of data on the screens of several state-of-the-art computers and other pieces of equipment. Wires and monitors and blinking lights are everywhere. Mr. Wayne has now been transformed into the masked and caped Batman, and his ward is now famed sidekick Robin, similarly masked and festooned in bright primary colors, in cheerful contrast to his benefactor's somber black ensemble. Their Batmobile, sleek and capable of almost anything imaginable, waits at the ready nearby.

Robin is studying an electronic map on which all recent subway accidents are represented by blinking red dots. A program has been clicking and whirring in the background, calculating various possible connections between the locations. Suddenly, the machine falls silent; beside each red dot a green one has appeared.

"Holy Christmas lights, Batman!" young Robin exclaims. "It's the Kold Kut Kafe!"

The Caped Crusader is at his ward's side in a single soundless stride.

Bruce Wayne's friendly tone has been replaced by a more somber and authoritative one. "There has been no pattern until now. This could be the breakthrough we need."

The Dynamic Duo leaps into the Batmobile, seat belts locking automatically into place over "The World's Greatest Detective" and "The Boy Wonder." The navigation system switches to stealth mode; infrared sensors replace headlights.

The far wall of the bat cave dissolves momentarily. When it reappears, Alfred, now alone, settles down before a large electronic map on which a small black dot can be observed speeding rapidly away from Wayne Manor.

************LOIS LANE

Lois Lane is leaning back in her favorite overstuffed chair; the steam from her still-full coffee mug, once a billowing white, is now barely a wisp. She has just finished her human-interest story about the success of the M & M poker run fundraiser, and she's reviewing what she's turned up so far on the subway incidents. Her recent encounter with the Amazon struck her as rather odd. Although, after last week's episode of flying space aliens shooting fire from their eyes and battling in a full-on major smash-fest that decimated half of downtown Metropolis, the absurdity of a drop-of-the-hat jaunt to DC in an almost-invisible stealth plane with a biker dressed more suitably for a swim meet does pale in comparison. She hadn't gained any real leads for her subway piece, but then again she was hardly one to knock good down-home hospitality. She hadn't had much of that lately, especially in Metropolis.

Unbidden, an image comes to mind of an old motherly figure in a worn frock answering the door of a wind-weathered farmhouse. Despite her frazzled appearance, there is something warm and homey about her. Lois can envision it all in vivid detail – the faded flowers on the woman's dress, the smile-crinkles framing her mouth and eyes, the paint peeling from the door frame, even the cool breeze bearing the fresh smell of ripening corn as it whispers past and ruffles her white-streaked hair – as though it were an actual memory and not just a dream. Lois catches her breath as the memory awakens a pang in her long-motherless heart. _How odd. When could I ever have met such a person?_ she wonders.

As a young, single woman working in what's still essentially a man's world, Lois works hard to prove that she's not a pushover, that she has what it takes to get the job done. She often has to push her way past the stuffed shirts in positions of power and the men who think her soft voice and short stature give them the right to ignore or underestimate her; in order to earn their respect and cooperation, she has learned, of necessity, to be both sweetly disarming and tough, even shocking and offensive, shaking their preconceptions to the core. She makes it clear, on no uncertain terms, that she can be just as bold, brave, and fearless as any man, whether going out onto a battlefield in a flak jacket or facing down those who would stand in her way, taking her case all the way up through the ranks to the very top if she has to.__

But despite all the outer toughness, deep inside she misses her mom dreadfully. No one ever replaced her mom when she died; it was all dad. So sometimes when she's alone, when nobody is around, she lets her guard down. Sometimes she even weeps. This is one of those times. After that vision of the woman at the farmhouse, tears stream unbidden down her cheeks. But then remembers her father's voice and roughly wipes her eyes._Gotta be tough, can't be weak, no room for self pity. There's work to be done._

_Oh, well_, she gives one last sniff and reaches for her coffee. _At least I managed to slip the tracker to that dangerous alien. Folks are still recovering from the damage done to Metropolis by him and his kind; no telling what else he might do, or others like him, if left unchecked. __I've done my part to keep this country safe._  
  
Her father the general made a career out of defending this country, at great personal sacrifice. He has always been proudest of his "little Lois" when she demonstrated the qualities he most valued: patriotism, toughness, bravery, strength. They've had their differences; she's even defied him sometimes, but deep down she has always craved his approval. Surely he would be proud of his daughter if he knew of her action tonight.

***********Steve**********

Steve Lombard is making his way home from the stadium on foot. It's late. Unable to find a female companion to accompany him to the big game, he had spent perhaps a bit too much time seeking solace in a particular beverage which had, in turn, caused his friends to abscond with his car keys and, with firm hands on his shoulders, give him a friendly shove in the direction of the subway. Once at the station, he remembers the recent spate of accidents. He turns aside, uncertain of his course. The buses have stopped running for the night; the road seems deserted. Drawn by the lights of the nearby Kold Kut Kafe, he stumbles into a booth just inside the door, drops his head onto the table, and falls fast asleep.

*************SAM LANE

General Sam Lane is pacing in his office, chawing on the end of an unlit cigar. Cowering before him are the gentlemen who had introduced themselves to Lois earlier as agents Brown and Philmore. General Lane is clearly furious.

"No trace of him? A wild goose chase to DC?" He sputters.

The men glance nervously at one another but do not reply.

"I can't have my little girl in danger like this." His daughter is Lois Lane, reporter at the Daily Planet. "Move heaven and earth if you have to. Find that menace and wipe him out. This is utterly unacceptable. I want 24-hour surveillance on that little ol' ladies' motorcycle clubhouse."

"Um, s-sir?" Philmore stutters. "Wh-what about just giving her a call? She might l-listen to reason."

As General Lane quickly inhales, the men brace themselves for a loud and vehement response, but his words are interrupted by a sudden violent bout of coughing. They seize the opportunity to make themselves scarce.

***************DYNAMIC DUO***********

In the darkness, no one notices a sleek black sports car zipping for the Kafe along seldom-traveled alleyways. Slowing, its wheels morph, and up the side of the Kafe it glides, coming to rest atop the roof. Two masked occupants disembark and melt into the shadows. Terse, low dialog ensues.

"Chimney?"

"Second floor."

A rope is produced and secured, and soon two shadows descend to flank a window; dim light and heated conversation filter through its shuttered blinds.

"Bananas!"

"What?"

"Bananas! This is bananas! Nuts! Someone's gonna track it all back to us."

"The boss said just this one last job, then it's gravy."

"Why can't he do his own dirty work? We're gonna be the ones caught holding the bag. And something just ain't right with all them promises. I bet he rubs us out."

"Baloney. He'll make good, like always. You'll see. We're set for life. That one last job out in Metropolis, that's it. We're done."

The dangling duo has heard enough. At a nod, buttons are pressed; silent motors speed them upwards. Soon the black starry expanse gazes down upon a vacant rooftop, and Alfred, who has been watching from the bat cave, arises to prepare for their return.

Once in the cave, the Taciturn Chiroptera strides purposefully to a smaller monitor off to one side. Rewinding back about an hour and then fast forwarding, he notes that the alien has been in an apartment in Metropolis for at least that long. A few quick clicks, and the occupant's name, address, and phone number appear. A certain Metropolis Kold Kut Kafe needs a visit, and fast. It would take too long to get there from Gotham; the alien is closer. He picks up his bat phone and makes the call.


	6. Nobody Sleeps Tonite, Except Maybe Steve

**********Still Saturday Night, One Hour Before Batman's Phone Call**********

Returning from DC, Kal-El quick-changes into Clark Kent and enters a nondescript apartment building in downtown Metropolis, within walking distance from the _Daily Planet_. In the manager's office downstairs, he fills out some paperwork, hands over a check in the amount of the deposit and first month's rent, and has the phone number and utilities switched over into his name. Once in possession of the keys, he mounts the stairs for a quick shower. He knows that he won't need his Kryptonian outfit for a flight to Smallville in the dark, so he stashes it behind a utility panel before he departs.

Before he can knock, his mother has flung open the farmhouse door. "Clark! Come on in, son. The stew is keeping warm on the stove for you."

"You were expecting me?"

"Of course. Where else would you go? Are you staying the night here, or are you just picking up things for your new place?"

Clark can't help but smile a little as he shakes his head. "You were right all along, Mom. I do need some things. And how did you know about the new place already?"

"Moms just know these things. Write your new number on the pad by the phone, dear. I put together some basics in the trunk at the top of the stairs; I was going to bring it down for you, but it was a bit heavier than I expected."

Clark eyes the trunk doubtfully as he walks over to write down his number. "Your old hope chest? Mom!"

"It's practical. I tried to include everything you'll need right away, or at least most of it."

He switches from plaintive to placating. "Don't worry, I'm sure this will do for now; if there's anything else I need, I can take care of it on that end."

He's eager to be on his way, but here comes Ma Kent from the kitchen with a steaming hot bowl. He doesn't need a super sense of smell to recognize his childhood favorite. Suddenly he feels hungry all over again, even though he just ate.

"Ok, thank you. Just one bowl." He devours the stew gratefully and gives his mom a hug before returning to Metropolis, her bulging hope chest balanced easily on one shoulder.

No sooner has his new apartment window banged shut behind him than the phone begins to ring. _Must be Mom. _He sets down the chest and lifts the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Clark Kent? It's Bruce Wayne. I need a favor."

"Bruce Wayne?" _How did _he_ get this number?_

"Look, this is important. I had dinner with the alien earlier this evening; I know he's visiting you now. Tell him I got a lead on those subway accidents; I don't know when, but the station near the Metropolis Stadium is next. It may have something to do with the Kold Kut Kafe. He needs to go check it out as soon as possible. Can you relay the message?"

"Um, sure, Mr. Wayne; right away, sir. Uh, 'bye." Clark hangs up quickly. _How did he know I was here_?

Now that he suspects its existence, locating the bat tracker doesn't take long. _Another one? Good Grief! _About to smash it as he did the other, he thinks better of it. This might come in handy one of these days for establishing his presence in two places at once. Back in costume, tracker and all, he climbs out his third-story window and takes off into the sky.

**************MEANWHILE, AT LOIS' APARTMENT*****************

Lois has decided that she doesn't have enough information yet to write an article about the subway smashups. She is searching the internet for more clues. _There's got to be something that makes sense._ She finds a few bloggers who opine that Wayne Industries obtained the high-profile construction contract because of large campaign contributions and underbidding, keeping costs impractically low by means of substandard materials and falsified safety inspections. Such aspersions, if true, would mean stiff consequences for everyone at Wayne Industries with knowledge of or involvement in these shady dealings, perhaps all the way up to Bruce Wayne himself. On the other hand, if false, this was some rather serious slander.

Bruce Wayne. He was that dashing billionaire she had met in the subway station. She fingered his business card thoughtfully. He was decidedly a sight for sore eyes! Of course, realistically speaking, a man like that would never take notice of a lowly news reporter like her, no matter how many Pulitzers she might have, but a girl could dream, now, couldn't she? He certainly didn't seem like the criminal type, although one never could tell. Still, it would be a mighty big shame if he were to end up behind bars.

She delves further into the blogs, looking for sponsorships, linkbacks, organizational memberships, affiliations, anything that might indicate a hidden motive. She notes several identical phrases which appear in all the blogs; it looks like they are quoting from a single source._ Aha!_ She finds it, a website put up by the "Luthor for Senate" campaign. Could this be a simple case of mudslinging? If these accusations are empty, she needs to look elsewhere for the cause of the subway accidents. But where?

Noting the lateness of the hour, Lois reluctantly closes her laptop. She showers and climbs into her bed, snuggling into the coziness of her pillow and comforter. But despite her exhaustion, sleep won't come. How can she sleep, how could anyone sleep, with such an important matter left hanging? In exasperation, she throws back the comforter, dresses quickly, grabs a flashlight, and slips out. The dark, cold air almost hums with anticipation. Somewhere out there is the answer to this question, and she intends to find it. She strides purposefully toward the nearest subway station. This one was never hit; all the workmanship should still be intact. She will examine everything she can find until the solution becomes apparent. Lois Lane is no quitter.

**************MEANWHILE, AT LOIS' APARTMENT (Part II)**********

Agents Brown and Philmore take great pains not to wake Lois as they ease their way in. They had been staked out front for quite a while; first, she sat in her chair by the window, clearly visible, for what felt like hours; then she took her sweet time in the shower; when she finally turned out the lights and went into her bedroom, they watched the clock impatiently until sufficient time has passed. At last they decided it would be safe to go on in; she would surely be asleep after 45 minutes. Now, as they painstakingly tiptoe down the hall, they hold their breath against any sound of disturbance. When the floor gives a sharp creak, they stand frozen before her open bedroom door. As their wide, staring eyes adapt to the darkness, they come to the realization that the bed is unoccupied.

Alarmed, they check behind doors, in closets, under and behind furniture, but she is not hiding in the apartment. She must have gone out somehow.

With a loud "whew," the two release the pent-up air from their lungs and begin rifling quickly through her papers and other belongings for any clue as to the alien's whereabouts. They consider cracking the password on her laptop and searching through her files, but that would take too long, and she could walk in on them at any moment. They could steal the laptop, but then she'll know they were here and she could possibly track it back to them. Apart from the laptop, they don't see anything useful. They hurriedly plant electronic listening devices and a small spy camera, a phone bug, and a computer key logger, then dash quickly back to their van and speed away.

***********At the Subway Station********

The last train is due to arrive in fifteen minutes. Completely oblivious to the danger, Lois is examining the tracks and electric third rail for any sign of foul play. There is quite a long stretch of track to cover, from one end all the way to the other end of the station, and the trouble could be elsewhere; there could be some strategically-placed debris, perhaps, or something amiss with the train itself.

She detects some slight movement out of the corner of her eye; it seemed like someone was running, behind her and to her left. She turns to look, but discovers nothing out of the ordinary. She continues to walk beside the track, shining her flashlight under the ledge and into crevices and dark corners as she goes. She hears a sound that could be footsteps; again she stops.

"Hello? Anybody there?" Her voice reverberates through the empty station.

Nobody answers.

_Could be rats down here_, she reasons.

Suddenly, strong hands pin her arms to her sides, and a moist cloth clamps down over her nose and mouth. She jerks herself free and begins to let out a loud, piercing scream, but it's quickly muffled by the cloth as two burly men wrestle her to the ground. Soon she has lost consciousness and is hefted off to one side. Now the sabotage can proceed unimpeded.

Or so the men think.

From behind comes an angry bellow. "You bullies! Pick on someone your own size!"

Steve Lombard has followed the thugs from the Kafe, and now he's rolling up his sleeves.

Rushing headlong, he readies his right fist for impact with the nearest man's nose. The man ducks, and takes a swing of his own, making contact with Steve's unprotected midsection. Winded but not dissuaded, Steve tries for a left uppercut. Tackled from behind, he fails to make contact, but he still manages to reach out with his left foot to trip the man in front of him, who lands with a thud. Regaining his balance and spinning to face his rear assailant, Steve grabs both his hands and tries to get into position for a head lock. But from behind, the first man has risen and rejoined the fray.

Kal-El arrives at the station at top speed; when he sees Lois slumped on the ground near the escalator, his heart almost stops. He wants to go to her; he wants to make sure she'll be okay. But last time they spoke, she betrayed him. How will she react to him this time? He is torn. At any rate, first there are a few ne'er-do-wells to trounce; then he can think about what to say to her. He zips between Steve's attackers, gives them each a _thunk_ on the noggin just hard enough to knock them out, then speeds back into the shadows to consider what to say to Lois.

When both would-be-saboteurs suddenly go limp and sink to the ground, Steve brushes himself off and straightens to his full height, giving each of them one final kick just as Lois comes to.

Kal-El still hesitates. _She's okay. Should I go to her? What do I say? "Lois, I'm so glad you're all right." No, that sounds corny. "Lois, I missed you. I love you." Well, she would most certainly reject me if I said that. _

Meanwhile, Lois is assessing her surroundings. "Steve! You stopped them! You saved all those people!" She points to the subway train, which is pulling in without incident.

"So, does that mean you'll drive me home?" Steve is asking. Seeing that she is slightly unsteady, or perhaps for some other reason, he places one arm around her shoulder.

Clark watches helplessly as the two ascend the escalator side by side and leave the station together. _He's taking all the credit; I saved his life! And now he's moving in on Lois! This can't be happening. I have to get her back._

One of the men on the ground begins to stir. Turning his attention to the situation at hand, Kal-El grasps each man firmly under the arms and across the chest and carts them up, up, and away.

Coming in for a landing on the front steps of the Metropolis Police Department, he dumps them on the ground.

"Officer, these two were caught trying to blow up the subway station," he informs the startled policeman taking a cigarette break nearby. "You'll find all the evidence you need in their bags." He watches until the troublemakers are securely handcuffed, then goes back to the subway station and affixes the bat tracker to the underside of a subway car, noting the number so he can retrieve it later.


End file.
